


Phone calls and train stations

by queseyo



Series: Hipsterstuck [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Collegestuck, F/M, Fluff, Hipsterstuck, Humanstuck, Panic Attacks, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queseyo/pseuds/queseyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Great. First of all, you had no idea where your boyfriend was. And along with that, you had no way of contacting him. This night was turning out better and better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phone calls and train stations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comme_ci (aulirie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aulirie/gifts).



**Be Karkat.**

He’s tried this many times. Simple. It’s really fucking simple. Just climb two steps and get on the train. It’s easy. He can’t do it.

Where the fuck is Gamzee when he needs a drag? His heart is pounding rapidly in his ribcage, like a trapped hummingbird. Beads of sweat form on his forehead as he rubs his sweaty palms on his pants. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He steps away from the train, his vision blurring. He bites down on his bottom lip as he feels the bitter taste of bile in his throat. Why is getting on public transportation so hard

His entire body is shaking. The coppery taste of blood fills his mouth. Slowly— _why is the world spinning?_ —he manages to step away from the train and make his way back to a bench.  

He’s glad not many people use the subway at this hour (well, it _is_ around midnight, so that would explain the lack of people waiting for a train). He doesn’t know what he’d do if people began coming up to him and asking if he was alright. That had happened before and it was terrifying.

He searches his pockets, looking for a cigarette. He craves the nicotine. He needs to _calm down_. Karkat bites his lip again. He closes his eyes as tears begin to form in them. He wants the pain in his chest to go away. He brings his knees to his chest, wraps his arms around them, and curls into a ball on the bench.

For a split second, he thinks about calling Terezi or Dave. Then he remembers that he left his phone on the coffee table. _Stupid_ , he thinks.

Now that he thinks of it, he regrets going over to Kanaya’s. If he hadn’t gone, none of this would’ve happened. He hopes Terezi isn’t worried. He would’ve been okay, safe at home, not in the middle of an empty train station, trying to get his breathing under control.

He knows it might be a while before the pain in his chest and his heart rate return to normal. He should’ve taken his medication with him, just in case. _Idiot._ He should’ve never come here. He should’ve asked Kanaya for a ride home, or maybe walk home instead of coming to the train station. Why didn’t he think this through?

Half an hour later he feels calm enough to get up again, strolls up and down the station while waiting for the next train. And as it arrives, he's glad that it's empty, because he doesn't know whether he'd be able to stand a crowd.

**Be Terezi.**

Karkat should’ve been home hours ago. You’ve been pacing up and down the apartment for the past two hours. You’ve called Kanaya and she’d told you that Karkat had left her apartment at least two hours ago.

Dave sighs loudly, and looks up from his computer screen. You meet his gaze. “He’ll be back soon, TZ. Quit your worrying.”

“I’m not worried.” You snap.

Dave raises an eyebrow. “Sure you aren’t. And I’m a pink unicorn. Or fucking one. Whatever. ” With that said, he goes back to mixing whatever new beat he had come up with.

 “ _Fine._ ” You give in, exasperated. “ _Of course_ I’m worried, Dave. It’s been hours and we haven’t heard a _word_ from him. The least he could do is call us.” You reply, your voice slightly less tense than before.

Dave sighs again, louder than before. He slams his laptop close, takes off his shades, and meets your gaze. He pulls his phone from his pocket, entering the password in the process, and then raises it to his ear. You can tell he’s sick of your rambling.

A loud ringing startles you and you look downwards, seeing your boyfriend’s phone. Dave ends the call and Karkat’s phone rings for a couple more seconds before the noise stops.  

Great. First of all, you had no idea where your boyfriend was. And along with that, you had no way of contacting him. This night was turning out better and better.

You need to distract yourself. You enter the kitchen and head towards the fridge, opening it, and grabbing the first thing you lay your eyes on. You pour yourself a glass of the drink and take a swing of it. You gag, the alcohol burning as it runs down your throat, and put your glass down.

“Why did you buy—” you call to Dave and immediately stop as you hear the lock of the front door click.

You sprint to the door and stop, taking in your boyfriend. Well, you’re no psychologist but you can tell that something’s off.  His hands are shoved into the pockets of his black skinny jeans, he’s biting his lip, and he’s paler than usual.

Tentatively, you place your hand on his shoulder. “Karkat?” you say, keeping your voice soft.

He raises his head, meeting your eyes, and flinches. He pushes your hand away, kicks off his combat boots, and walks slowly towards your shared room.

You want to say something—anything—but the words don’t come to you. For a second, you wonder if you should follow him and talk to him, but decide against it. It’s better to leave him be. You can ask him about it tomorrow.

* * *

 

The next morning, there is a tense silence between the two of you. Karkat doesn’t bid you good morning; he heads straight for the coffee machine and gets out the powder and water.

You turn, back facing Karkat, and look at Dave. He’s spread across the couch, fast asleep, his shades balancing precariously on the tip of his nose. His hair is sticking out in all directions and his fingers are wrapped around his laptop as if it’s his prized possession (and let’s face it, you think it probably is). Idiot doesn’t have class till ten today. Lucky.

You turn again as you hear the coffee pot whistle and watch as Karkat turns the stove off. Without asking, he pours two mugs and hands you one. You take it gratefully, breathing in the smell, and then pour some milk into it.

You sit in one of the silver chairs that are around the dining table and sip your hot drink slowly. You place the cup down as Karkat sits in front of you.

You clear your throat and reach over to take his hand. “What happened last night?” you ask softly.

A scowl begins forming on his face and you can tell he’s about to pull his hand away from yours but decides against it at the last minute. With his free hand, he takes another sip of his coffee before replying.

“It’s nothing…” he pauses. “Just…issues.”

You know not to press further. You nod, and your lips twitch slightly. “You know I’m always here for you, right Karkat?”

He nods, putting the mug down and taking both of your hands in his.“Thanks, Terezi.” He reaches over and gently pecks your lips.

It’s going to be alright.


End file.
